


Alibis

by until_the_earth_is_free



Series: The Littlest Ships That Could (Hannibal Edition) [3]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2014-05-05
Packaged: 2018-01-21 23:52:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1568453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/until_the_earth_is_free/pseuds/until_the_earth_is_free
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal isn't the only one to use someone as their alibi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alibis

**Author's Note:**

> for the lovely tinaisaderp.tumblr.com

 

 

**[Wednesday 15th February, 7pm: Wolf Trap, Virginia]**

It is uncharacteristically light for this time of day in Will's living room. Since he has got back from prison, he has tried to keep the lights in his house regularly matching the time of day and, as it is so cold and dark very early at this season, he would usually be content to eat his macaroni and cheese in the dark, surrounded by his curious dogs.

Unfortunately, his unappreciated guest does not abide by any of Will's house rules.

"Frederick, what the hell are you doing?" Will asks, exasperated, looking directly below the camera. There is no end to the sarcasm he retains for the psychiatrist, his previous only source of power and his current only source of entertainment.

"I'm documenting," an off-screen voice replies, stiffly. There is a scuffle and the room shudders for a moment as if someone is putting the camera down rather clumsily, before Frederick Chilton comes into view and sits awkwardly next to Will on the couch.

"Why?"

"I know the Chesapeake Ripper is planning on framing me in the near future. I need proof that I'm here at every moment."

Will puts down his fork.

"You mean, you are going to be filming our every move for as long as it takes before a Ripper victim dies?"

"Do you have a better idea?"

Will bit back a retort claiming it would suit him a lot better if Chilton gets locked up in his own mental institution, but he only does so to save it for later.

"You are insufferable, Frederick," he says, sliding off the couch and taking his plate to the sink. "There is a fucking reason I choose to live in the middle of nowhere."

Chilton does not reply as he is too busy trying to display the date of that day's newspaper to the camera with very shaky hands.

**[Thursday 16th February, 8am: Wolf Trap, Virginia]**

"Have you been sleeping well?" asks Chilton, not even looking up from his laptop on his makeshift couch-bed as Will stumbles groggily into the living room.

"Has that thing still been recording all night?" Will evades the question, gesturing towards the camera, still sitting on the mantelpiece.

"Yes," the psychiatrist replies, still scrolling unbearably slowly through another article on his computer.

"Well, I still have to go to work," Will says, uncomfortably. "Are you alright on your own?"

"I am a forty-three years old man, Mr Graham," Chilton replies flatly. "I think I can handle being home alone for a few hours."

Will decides to have breakfast on the way to Quantico to avoid being in his own living room for any longer than necessary.

**[Monday 20th February, 2am: Wolf Trap, Virginia]**

There is still a soft glow of blue light emanating from the couch when Will finally comes home, tosses aside his shoes and coat and enters the living room. Puzzled as to what his houseguest is doing so early in the morning, he peers over at the couch and sees Chilton sprawled on top of the sheets, an open laptop noisily overheating on his stomach and one of the smaller dogs asleep at his feet. On closer inspection, he notices the computer is open at the same article the man was reading when Will left that morning.

With a smile too subtle for the camera to pick up through the darkness and a quiet snort of amusement, he turns off the laptop and gently places it on the coffee table, before traipsing up the stairs to the comfort of his bed while the small red light on the video camera continues flashing.

**[Saturday 25th February, 1pm: Wolf Trap, Virginia]**

"Why is your wifi so slow, Mr Graham?" Chilton asks, aggressively shaking his laptop. He has moved to the dining room for lunch, taking the camera and his various other technologies with him.

"Snow," Will replies shortly, taking a bite of his sandwich.

Neither of them comment on the fact Chilton seems to be trying to pay rent through being polite. Will does not even think about the fact that Chilton kind of sounds like Matthew Brown used to when he is trying to be polite.

**[Monday 27th February, 8pm: Wolf Trap, Virginia]**

"I know, dear, I'm very sorry but I don't think I'll be able to come this year..."

Will frowns as he walked into the living room, instinctively reaching for the gun on his hip at the sound of unexpected conversation in his house.

"What's going on?" Will asks, leaning over the couch to see who Chilton is talking to. Maybe he is being a little harsh, but he didn't think the psychiatrist had any friends.

"But you _promised_!" comes the shrill cry of a girl who can't be older than around nine years old from the houseguest's laptop.

"Lizzy," Chilton says, and his face is more expressive than Will has ever seen it. "Say hello to Mr Graham."

He tilts the laptop screen towards Will so he can see a slightly pixellated dark-haired girl sitting at a desk, waving at him.

"Hello, Mr Graham," she says perfunctorily, before quickly changing the subject back.

"Nine years old is a very important number," she informs Chilton very seriously. "You have to come to my party."

"When is it?" asks Will, gladly accepting the glare flashed by the man sitting next to him.

"A week," squeaks the girl.

"Why can't you go, Frederick?" Will asks, revelling in winding up the psychiatrist in this new and interesting context.

"I'm sorry, but I have to work hard at the moment here with Mr Graham and I don't know if I will be back in time for your party. I'm so sorry."

The girl folds her arms and pouts, but it is clear that she knows it's hopeless.

Chilton offers a really tense smile, before saying in a tight voice, "Uncle Freddy has to go now. I love you lots and we'll talk again soon."

"Love you too," Lizzy replies, disappointment soaking her treble voice before she hangs up.

Chilton stares blankly at the empty screen while Will suddenly feels extraordinarily uncomfortable and leaves the room to go upstairs.

**[Monday 27th February, 9pm: Wolf Trap, Virginia]**

"So, uh, who's Lizzy?" Will asks awkwardly, as he passes Chilton a plate of chilli.

"My sister's daughter," he replies gruffly.

It has never even occurred to Will that Chilton might have any form of family, let alone family with whom he was close. Considering how awfully the man treats some of his patients, the profiler is quite surprised that he can even _talk_ to children without making them cry.

"I'm sorry you won't be at her party."

Will truly tries to be as genuine as he can, but after months of pure sardonic conversation, he doesn't blame Chilton for snorting with annoyance before taking the plate of vegetarian chilli and eyeing it suspiciously.

"I just want this whole thing to end," the psychiatrist sighs, and he speaks with more conviction than Will has ever heard.

"Don't we all?"

Neither man wants to mention that anyone else in the same emotional predicament as them is probably dead.

**[Thursday 2nd March, 10pm: Wolf Trap, Virginia]**

They have given up on trying.

It has been over two weeks and they have heard no news on the Chesapeake Ripper case. Will has been experiencing a constant swirl of nausea in his stomach at the idea of Hannibal unexpectedly breaking into his house again and finding that Will has been hiding the patsy from him.

Even at moments such as this, when he and Chilton are collapsed on the couch watching reruns of 90s sitcoms surrounded by an army of furry guardians, the constant presence of the flashing camera light keeps him on edge, feeling like his betrayal to Hannibal and Jack is being broadcast across the country.

He groans softly and rakes his hands aggressively through his already disastrously messy hair.

"Stressed?" Chilton clucks.

"You have no fucking idea," Will mutters. Then, seeing the passive emptiness in the other man's expression, something cracks in him.

"You sit here," he exclaims angrily. "Hiding in my house like a fucking coward, while my job, my fucking _life_ is being put on the line. Do you have nothing to say? Are you even fucking sorry?"

Chilton opens his mouth as if to reply with an indignant, overly pompous remark, but instead utilises it to lean over and kiss Will softly and quickly.

Will blinks slowly, his rage dissipating and a more familiar sense of confusion sinking into his bones.

"What the fuck?"

"How did that make you feel, Mr Graham?"

Nobody knows how ironic Chilton is being at this moment.

Will licks his lips slowly and carefully.

"I feel like we should give our surveillance something more interesting to watch for once."

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
